Letters
by shopgirl1997
Summary: After the revolution, Peeta and Katniss exchange letters


Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.

A/N: This is my first fanfiction, so please be kind.

He loves me, I know he does. He's just going through a rough time after coming back from the revolution. As soon as he arrived to District Twelve after being released from duty in the capitol, he insisted we get married. I had been alone for a year, Peeta hadn't even sent me a letter to let me know how he was doing so I tried to move on from him, getting married to Gale seemed like it would've been proof that I was making progress.

In the beginning of the marriage, Gale was like his old self; except for the kissing and sex and being a married couple, we seemed to be just like we were before I was sent off to be in the games. We went out into the woods like we always did, talked like we used to. Nothing between us felt out of place, it didn't feel necessarily right, but it didn't feel uncomfortable. It was something I could live with and not dread, which for my current mental status after the revolution, is saying something.

Four months after Gale returned from District Twelve, Peeta's first letter came in the mail. Gale was shopping in the city center and wasn't due to come home for a while. He would be none too happy to see me holding a letter from Peeta, so I took this as my only opportunity to open the letter.

_Dear Katniss,_

_I cannot apologize enough for not contacting you sooner, nor can any excuse I use lessen my guilt. I can guess how you were doing after the revolution, the death of your sister, your mother's abandonment, and being put through a torturing trial couldn't have left you mentally whole. While my excuses are true, I still feel like I should have done something to let you know that you weren't alone._

_This is the first letter that I have written to you where I haven't had a flashback. Most of the time I couldn't get past writing your name without one, so I guess my therapies are working. I am stuck in the Capitol, stuck in their too white, sterile hospital getting tested and treated for so many possible things. I feel like a lab rat, which would be something to laugh at if it didn't feel so true._

_My therapies include painting, baking, watching the uncut version of our games, and all the video we have of the revolution. As you know, Haymitch was admitted for alcohol abuse, now__he also works as another therapy tool for me. The doctors say you would probably work better, but he was the best they could do without breaking either of our fragile boundaries._

_I can tell fake memories from the real memories now, I can also sense when a flashback is going to happen and try to wind myself down. Whenever I have a question about things that may have happened, I ask Haymitch. He never answers any of the personal questions that involve you, he says that I need to ask you those. Having him helps a lot, it makes me think about if you have anyone like that to turn to. I hope you do._

_I have some questions I feel like I need answered. Some of them are ones you'd ask a friend but they are important to me. How are you, are you doing well? What is home like? Has it changed? How do you feel about the new government? Did you love me at all during the games and revolution, or was it all for show? Were you really pregnant? If you were, was it really my child, or someone else's? Is your favorite color green? Why do I remember sand and saltwater and a sunset?_

_I am sorry for the question overload, for barging into your life. I want to hear back from you. I miss you._

At the bottom of the letter he scribbled on a phone number, saying to call him at any time. I felt conflicted, part of me was angry that he took so long to contact me, and to even bother writing to me. Another part was happy he wrote me, that he still cared. I was also crushed, he wasn't the Peeta he used to be, and he brought up my dead sister. After the whirlwind of emotions, guilt settled in; I was at fault for his situation. I was the Mockingjay, throwing everything Snow worked so hard for out of control, and he was my punishment for it. I owed him something, so I responded to him on the back of his letter.

_Peeta,_

_You know I am no good with how I say things, all I can hope is that this letter makes sense to you. _

_We both needed time after everything that happened before writing to each other, you shouldn't feel guilty about that. You're right, I wasn't doing so well after the revolution after… everything._

_I am sorry. So sorry for the suffering that you had to go through because of me. And I am glad that you are doing well. I have some questions for you as well. How are you? How's Haymitch? What do you think of the games? _

_I am doing as well as I can be given all that's happened. District Twelve is relatively the same but so different. People are no longer starving, they have enough money to house and feed themselves now. The division between the Merchants and Seam is not as great as it once was. And the coal mines were closed off; the Capitol has built a medicine factory instead. I do not know about the new government, I do not want to get involved with it, but it seems to be treating our district well. I have been sentenced to staying in District Twelve for five years as punishment for what I have done, so I do not know about the other districts._

_Did I love you during the games? In a way I think I did, but I have nothing to compare it to. The only people I knew I loved for certain was my sister and Gale. All I knew about how I felt towards you was that you were special and I couldn't keep going if you were to die. When we were going into the quarter quell, you said I was pregnant. You said that to make the audience angry at Snow for sending us back into the games, but I was never pregnant. _

_My favorite color is green, like the forest, your favorite color is orange, like a sunset. The reason why you remember a beach is because on our victory tour you brought us down to the ocean to eat dinner and watch the sunset. We were talking and I kissed you, there were no cameras, it was just us. I miss you too, Peeta._

I sent the letter off before Gale got home. I felt guilty about this, but I do not know why. Gale enters my- our- house with dinner and a necklace. It has a pearl in it, he's seen me holding Peeta's pearl. We eat our food in silence, going to bed without touching each other.

A few days later Gale enters the living room with a letter in his hands.

"What's this?" he demands angrily, shoving the paper in my face. I see Peeta's handwriting on the envelope.

I state the obvious. "It's a letter from Peeta." A loud smack echoes in my ears and I cover my stinging, throbbing cheek in shock.

"What's he doing writing you a letter? Are you cheating on me?" As his foul breath wafts across my face I'm stunned by the realization that he is drunk. Red in the face, Gale tears up the letter, leaving the large pieces on the floor at my feet. After he stomped out of the house, slamming the front door hard enough that it shook the walls, I gather the letter; piecing it back together with what the Capitol calls tape.

_Katniss,_

_You have no idea how happy I was to see that you wrote me back. I was nearly positive that you wouldn't read it, let alone reply. I am doing okay, but I miss you more than they thought I would. The doctors are surprised at how much I've progressed since writing to you, I guess it really did help. Just in case you wanted to visit me for some bizarre reason, I convinced the president to allow you to travel to the Capitol. I know that you probably won't, but it is an option for you. I've finished watching our games again, the doctors want me to be able to watch it without losing control in a flashback. This time I was able to hold on and actually see what was really happening._

_Haymitch is doing well now. At first he didn't take to sobriety at all when he first arrived. Let me tell you that he was not a very pleasant person to be around for the longest time, but he's much better now. He even antagonizes me to the point where I see shiny images, just to amuse himself. It made me angry that he would do that, but it actually helps me be able to fight them off better. _

_I write letters addressed to you often, but they are never sent because they are purely for therapeutic reasons and should never be read by anyone other than my therapist. I don't even get to read them, I just get the basic summary of them before being told what I should do to solve a problem I had expressed when I write. I hope to see you, but I don't expect to, and that's okay._

I get the option to leave. It's to the capitol, but it is still away from here. And I get to see Peeta. I waste no time in rushing upstairs to pack what little I will need to get away.

I don't hear him enter the house, or call my name. I am so focused on getting my stuff packed before he gets home.

"What are you doing?" He asks softly, dangerously. I do not answer, I do not have an answer to give him but he is suddenly behind me and spinning me around. I cannot comprehend the words he yells, the fear causes my blood to pump too loudly behind my ears to hear anything correctly. He beats me and I think I am shouting for help as the blows continue to assault my body. When he has hit every piece of me to the point of bruising, he rips off my clothes and painfully strips me of any dignity I may have had left. His hands close around my neck as he gets closer to the edge, cutting off my air supply and tightening when he finishes.

I am nearly unconscious, but I can hear him moving around downstairs. The smell of blood and alcohol poison the air around me. Then I hear another man's voice, combined with Gale's, as they argue. There's a loud crash of something shattering followed by a dull thud of a body hitting the floor and footsteps racing up the stairs. I prepare for the worst as an unexpected face rounds the corner. I lay naked, covered in blood as I try to hide from the horror on the man's face. As he approaches I lose consciousness.

When I come to, I am in a room that smells too clean, the white of everything hurting my eyes, and the beeping of machines doing nothing to ease my headache.

"I don't know why he did it, but I heard yelling. When I went over to check on them he was drunk. I tried to find Katniss but he wouldn't let me. I had to hit him over the head with a ceramic vase in order to get up the stairs. I found her on the floor in their room, naked and bloody." The man's voice from earlier enters through the partially opened door leading out to what I guessed was a hallway.

"Alright, well thanks for getting her. You probably saved her life." Said another man. It took a minute before I placed his voice. Haymitch! Did he come back from the capitol? Where were we?

"Looks like you're awake, Sweetheart," Haymitch murmured softly as he entered the room. He then tells me that I was taken from my home and rushed be hovercraft to the Capitol hospital, where I had to go through a couple surgeries in order to stop internal bleeding. Apparently I died twice on the table and once more in the recovery room, where they found more internal bleeding.

It takes weeks for my body to heal. Haymitch hasn't told Peeta about what happened, he still thinks I am in District Twelve. Our mentor brings me his letters, and waits a few days to give mine back to Peeta so that it seems like the mail is being sent from two separate locations. I go through therapy, apparently what I went through was mentally damaging; they must have forgotten that I went through two games and a revolution earlier. There wasn't that much left to destroy.

I am walking through the hallway when I hear my name shouted behind me. I freeze at the voice, because I haven't heard it since before my trial after killing Snow.

"Katniss? What are you doing here? Why are you dressed in long-term hospital clothes?" He fires question after question, leaving me no room to answer. Finally, he stops asking, and stares at me for a few long minutes before flinging himself at me. I tense expecting the worst to happen; the last time he launched at me, he was on a mission to choke me to death. Instead, his strong arms wrap around my waist in a tight hug.

"I've missed you so much! I thought I wouldn't ever see you again," He whispered. The hospital staff I'm guessing are his guards halt behind him, the worry dissipating in their faces, being replaced by small smiles.

Eventually, after the therapist does tests to see if he is susceptible to losing control, we are sent on our way. He leads me to his room, which no longer has bright white walls, but a sunset orange color; the little accessories decorating the room are a dark green color. Here, I tell him my story away from prying ears. I see him tense, his bright blue eyes growing dark and distant in some places.

"I'm so glad that you're okay," he murmurs after I'm done talking. I reach down and grab his tightly fisted, shanking hand; bringing it to my lap where I pry open his fingers and massage his palm.

We grow closer together, and it feels right. The first time we try, I am transported back to the night where Gale beat and raped me, I freeze and become panicked. Peeta talks to me, calming me down. "We don't have to, it's okay."

He holds me until I turn in his arms. This is Peeta, not Gale. I just have to remember that. "I'm ready. I want this, I want you." We are hesitant, nervous, and clumsy; but it feels right with Peeta. Everything feels right with Peeta.

I receive a letter with Peeta's messy handwriting. It's strange to get a letter, we are only a few rooms away from each other.

_My dear, sweet Katniss,_

_I haven't written to you in a long time, probably because you are a few doors down from me and we see each other every day and every night. I don't know if you know this, but we are going to be discharged soon. I understand that you do not want to go back to District Twelve. My therapist thinks it would be a bad idea if I go back as well, it has too many triggers. I spoke to Finnick, and there is an empty beachfront victor's house if I want it. I think I am going to go there, it's a place where I can only think of happy memories. I would like it if you would come with me. Would you? I hope you do. I'll be in my room when you decide._

Two weeks later we are on a hovercraft flying over the Capitol, on our way to District Four. We called Finnick together, asking if he would mind if I went with Peeta; as expected, he excitedly agreed.

We moved in a week later, the house is as big as the victor's houses in Twelve, but the layout is different. The furnishings aren't inspired by the capitol like my old house, but seeming to have the theme of the ocean. Soft whites, tans, pinks, and various shades of blue cover the house.

We settle in quickly; I turn out to be a decent fisherman, and join Finnick often in the mornings for the early catch. Peeta builds a bakery, introducing many kinds of breads and pastries to the district. Annie is often found in the back with the ovens, she has a newfound gift for baking.

Three years after starting a life in Four, he proposes. It's sweet and simple and private. Peeta leads me out to the beach in front of our house, to a spot on the sand covered by a blanket and a small candlelit dinner of some sort of sea fish. He spills his heart in the delicate way he speaks and pulls out a ring with my pearl buried in the center of it, circled by tiny diamonds. I can only think of one answer and I say it proudly, with tears in my eyes.

"Yes."


End file.
